Saturday 6th August 2011

Never felt more like singing the blues.

It seems like I forgot to mention that in order to follow me on Twatter, you have to have a Twatter account. Well I say I forgot to mention it, I didn't forget I just thought it pretty fucking obvious that you would need one. It's like asking you to be my 'friend' on Farcebook without you having a Farcebook account. It wouldn't fucking work, would it.

I wouldn't normally be so cruel, but I know my stalker is in Scotland at the moment, and I'm pretty sure they don't have t'interweb up there yet. It'll be ages before she sees this, and she'll be all loved up anyway so she won't care. [Hope you are having a great time stalker]

Anyhoo, back to Twatter. I don't only have four followers anymore, I have six. SIX. Some bird from Winsconsin who will probably be deleted for being a sex-pest [apologies if you are not a sex-pest, but people who have URLs under their profile name that include three Xs and the word 'images' usually are] is one of them and the other one is only some bloke called Jeremy Vine.

Not really some bloke called Jeremy Vine, it only bastard well is the REAL Jeremy Vine.
This probably makes me eligible for the next series of Celebrity Big Brother.
Come to think of it, seeing as Davina isn't presenting it, maybe I could. Unless Jeremy is, of course.
Apparently Davina couldn't present this series as she is not pregnant, as she has been for all the previous 44 series. It's no wonder she has to dye her hair.

Gotta say, Up the Gas, and Fuck the City, as Bristol Rovers won today and the shit team from south of the river got hammered. I won't dwell on it, Liz is getting pissy.............